Do Not Pass Go: Do Not Collect 200 Dollars!
by snooky-9093
Summary: Something silly for the summer! Now, where is that doggoned message? PBA award winner! Silver for best long comedy.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: This story has been taking up space in my head and hard drive since 2008. I finally figured out what I needed to do with help from my sister and typist, Ruth. So thanks. I would also like to thank my Dad for his help with the games and their British names. This website: http:/history/tokensdotphp was a tremendous resource. I have used the 9th edition in this story. Various sites discuss the use of Monopoly during World War 2 and finally: No copyright infringement is intended, anywhere...This is just for fun.

"Message from London , Colonel." The sentence was completed before the radioman hit the top rung of the ladder.

Hogan, coffee mug in hand, was leaning up against a bunk. "Wish I had a dollar for every time you've said that," he grinned.

"You'd be rich." Kinch handed the colonel a slip of paper.

"No place to spend it." Hogan glanced at the message. "At the moment..."

"New mission, sir?" Carter asked. "It's been dull around here, lately."

"Dull, but safer." Newkirk chided the sergeant.

"We do have a new mission," Hogan answered. "Seems simple enough. London is sending us an important message. We have to retrieve the message and deliver it to Snow White."

"Snow White," LeBeau grumbled. He had met Snow White. She was a formidable and vital member of the Underground unit, who could pass for his grandmother. "Don't say it." He glared at the other men in the barracks. "These code names are ridiculous,Colonel."

"Louis is right. We need to get these changed. How about sports?" Newkirk's idea got the men in the barracks talking.

"Umpire, ref," Carter suggested.

"Arsenal, pitch, goalie," Newkirk added.

"Babe Ruth," Olsen chimed in.

"I thought that was a candy bar," LeBeau remarked.

"Hold it!" Hogan shouted. The men froze. "I didn't set these. I'm just the messenger. Look, we have a bit of detective work to do."

"Sounds interesting." Kinch walked over to the table, moved one of Newkirk's cards, and received a slap on the wrist for his efforts. "Where's the message?"

"That's the point," Hogan replied. "We'll be receiving a shipment of leisure items – games, books, etc. - from the Red Cross. There will be coded instructions in the shipment, and that will lead us to the message. Then we take it from there." He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the stove.

"Aww. No explosions?"

"No. Sorry, Carter."

"Maybe they'll send some tiddlywinks, Andrew." Newkirk winked at Kinch.

"I'll have you know, Newkirk, I can beat you at tiddlywinks with one hand tied behind my back." Carter sat down on his bunk and pouted.

"I'm not staying for this." Hogan, who was still nursing his cup of coffee, headed outside. Most of the other men in the barracks followed, leaving Newkirk and Carter to their friendly argument.

"All present and accounted for, Kommandant." Schultz turned and waited for Klink to give his usual boring morning spiel.

"I have good news to report this morning."

"Berlin 's fallen!" Someone yelled.

"Who said that? Schultz, put that man on report," Klink ordered. Six men stepped forward.

Hogan ran interference. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again. They're restless. Bad weather… stuck indoors. Bored." Klink stared. "Makes 'em ornery," Hogan whispered.

"I could order a work detail." The men groaned. "But…" Klink paused. "The men will no longer have an excuse to be bored. We have received a new delivery of amusements from the Red Cross."

A cheer went up. Hogan quickly squelched it. "That's great, sir." He stepped forward. "We'll start unpacking right away. Carter, Newkirk…"

"Hold it, Colonel Hogan. Isn't that a job for your morale officer?"

"Truthfully, Kommandant, yes. But…" Hogan lowered his voice. "He resigned. Not happy with his assignment." A few of the soldiers snickered. "Carter and Newkirk have applied for his position." On cue, both men stepped forward. "Look at it this way. This is like, like… their employment interview."

"Interview?" Klink, befuddled as usual, gave up. "The boxes have been delivered to the recreation hall. Unpack them. Diiismisssed!"

Schultz watched Klink disappear into the Kommandanteur. "Interview," he chuckled and shook his head.

The boxes were, as Klink mentioned, in the recreation hall. On the floor by the ping pong table sat two large packing crates.

"We won't need this, sir." Newkirk put down the tool he had brought with him to pry off the lid. "It's already open." He pulled off the lid that was askew on the top of the box labeled one of two.

"Same as this one." Carter opened the second box.

"They would check the contents before letting us have them. Probably two or three times. Find the information and bring it back to the barracks." Hogan looked at his watch. "I have a chess game with Klink to drag out. Barracks 4 has volunteered to clean up the rest of the stuff. And get me out of Klink's quarters when you're done."

"Will do, sir. Shouldn't take long." Carter and Newkirk watched Hogan leave.

"I say let's start with number one. Probably where they left the instructions."

Newkirk sighed. "Undoubtedly. After you."

"No, after you, Peter. It's from the British Red Cross. See?" Carter pointed to a stamp inside the huge crate.

"Oh. All right, mate. Let's see what we have in here." Newkirk eagerly dug in and began to pull out scraps of paper.

"Don't throw that out!" Carter screamed.

Newkirk jumped. "For heaven's sake. You nearly gave me a coronary!"

"Sorry, Newkirk. I need it for Felix's bedding."

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Put it over there. What's this?" Newkirk pulled out a large sheet of paper.

"Bingo!" Carter explained.

"No, not yet. No Bingo. A letter and a packing list."

"No, I meant Bingo as if you found… Oh, never mind." Carter peeked over Newkirk's shoulder. "What's it say?"

"Hold your horses, I'll read it." Newkirk leaned against the ping pong table. "Listen..."

_To the brave prisoners of Stalag 13. We, the members of the St. James Women's Auxiliary, have carefully collected and packed these 21 items for you in hopes that it will make your time in prison more bearable._

"That's it, Newkirk, bearable. Papa Bear!"

"Shall I continue, Carter?"

"Please. St. James sounds so… so… British."

"Yes it does." Newkirk cleared his throat. "Where was I? St. James, bearable. Oh, yes, 'ere… Please play nice, read the instructions and follow the rules?" He shrugged.

"Go on," Carter urged. "Where's the message?"

"I don't know, mate. The rest is a packing list of twenty-one items."

"Maybe it's in there. Let's check it over." Carter grabbed a pencil.

"Good idea," Newkirk agreed. He and Carter emptied both crates and piled the contents on the table.

"Toss me the pencil. I'll read the list," Newkirk said. "You find the items."

"Got it. Pencil ready?" Carter asked cheerfully.

"Ready. Draughts … two." Newkirk looked up.

"What?"

"Draughts."

"And that would be...?"

"Checkers, Carter."

"Why didn't you say so?" Carter moved some items. "Two games of checkers. Check. Checking the checkers," he chuckled.

"Marvelous." Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Next. Snakes and Ladders. One."

"Oh, you mean Chutes and Ladders. Here it is." Carter picked up the box and placed it next to the checkers.

"Why would they send that? It's a kids' game," Newkirk grumbled.

"I like it," Carter mumbled.

"Biff Bats. Four."

"Speak English, Newkirk!"

"I am! It's those; there." Newkirk pointed.

"Oh, paddle balls! Hey, we could have a tournament." Carter picked one up and began to count.

"Lovely. Next … crayons. Two boxes."

Carter walked around the table. "Nope. No crayons."

"That's odd. Here they are." Newkirk walked to the other side and picked up the boxes, then put them down.

"Those are pencils, Newkirk. Colored pencils."

"We … call … them … crayons… and this… is … a British inventory …. From the St. James Women's auxiliary…"

"Gee, don't get testy. Sorry, go on."

"One box of dominoes."

"Got it!"

"One box Ludo."

"Ludo?"

"Sorry, mate. Parcheesi."

"Got it!"

"One set badminton paddles and two birdies."

"Here birdie, birdie... Found it!" Carter shouted.

"Hurray! Two yo-yos."

"Found them, but they're tangled together." Carter held up a mess.

"Give you something to do. Untangle them. One Monopoly game."

"Here."

"Two jigsaw puzzles - 1000 pieces each."

"Over here." Carter opened the boxes. "Already put together. Look." The puzzles were indeed put together and folded up neatly in the box. "The Krauts checked these over already. They wouldn't sneak anything in there. Too easy to check. That's twenty. Is there anything else?" Carter asked Newkirk.

"Oh. Last one. Pack of cards for pontoon. Pontoon... Over there."

"Oh," Carter's face fell. "Cards. Like we have no cards." Carter tossed the deck on a shelf. "Well, where is it?"

"Where's what?" Newkirk had picked up a yo-yo, quickly untangled it and was expertly walking the dog.

"Hey, that's good. The message, or where to find it."

"Oh, I forgot," Newkirk laughed. "Let's see." He glanced at the list. "Not many clues here…"

"Hold it. Where did you say the ladies' auxiliary was from, Peter?"

"St. James."

"That's it! Monopoly! There's a property called St. James on the board."

"I'm not familiar with the game. You sure?"

"Absolutely. Besides, you know they've hidden all sorts of things in those games."

"Of course. Good thinking, Carter. Let's grab the game and this message and take it back to the barracks!"


	2. Chapter 2

Barracks 4 enthusiastically headed over to the rec hall to sort out the games, organize a badminton and paddle ball tournament and clean up the mess. Meanwhile, everyone in Barracks 2 gathered around the table.

Hogan, holding the paper Newkirk had read, placed the unopened game in the center.

"Well, let's open it. Carter, do the honors."

Carter opened the box and gently removed the board. He placed it back on the table.

"There's no red dot," Kinch remarked.

"Get me a magnifying glass." Hogan held out his hand.

"Here's one."

"Thanks, Olsen." Hogan carefully looked at the Free Parking space, hoping to see the telltale sign of a board and game pieces that had been tampered with. (1)

"Not there," he announced a few moments later. "Well, I suppose they knew it was coming here and not going out to normal prisoners."

"That's understandable, sir," Kinch said. "But where's the message?"

"St. James. Give me the card." Hogan snapped his fingers.

"I'll get it." Carter took the pile of real estate holdings, quickly found the card and handed it over.

"Looks the same. Maybe there are microdots." Hogan checked the card over several times, backwards and forwards, with the magnifying glass and without. He finally gave up. "Here." He handed it to Kinch. "See anything?"

"Nothing there," Kinch announced a few moments later.

"This is frustrating." Hogan ran his hand through his hair. "Let me see the first message again."

"Here, sir." Carter handed the paper to the colonel.

"St. James, okay. Play nice? Read the instructions? Play by the rules?"

"The instructions!" Several men, plus Hogan, said it in unison.

"Carter, instructions." Hogan snapped his fingers.

"Here, sir." Carter was beginning to feel like a scrub nurse.

"Banker, 10 tokens, chance, jail, uh huh, uh huh." Fourteen men waited patiently for Hogan to finish, check it over with the glass and again hand the paper over to Kinch, who again saw nothing.

"Excusez-moi," LeBeau interrupted. "I'm not familiar with this game, but didn't the ladies say play nice and follow the rules?"

"Yes, LeBeau... Yes, they did! Thanks for volunteering."

"I didn't…"

"Oh, no." Newkirk, realizing what was about to happen, headed for the door.

"I hear the radio," Kinch quickly said, as he began to back up towards the bunk.

"I'm needed outside the wire." Olsen was on Kinch's tail.

"Something is burning." LeBeau grabbed a pot.

Carter, who was already setting up the game board, removed the tokens. "You're no fun," he mumbled under his breath. He looked up at the party poopers.

"Ahem," Hogan loudly cleared his throat. "No one move. Kinch, come back Baker's on duty. Olsen, you were out last week and no one is here to take your place. LeBeau, it's 10 a.m. We already ate."

"I'll play if you want, sir." Goldman enthusiastically hopped off his bunk. "One of them can watch the door, this time." He glared at Kinch.

"You're in." Hogan pulled out a chair.

"Iron?" Carter asked.

"Sure," Goldman grabbed the token.

"I don't mind doing my part." O'Brien quickly headed over to the table and asked for the car.

"Vroom." Carter passed it over.

"Newkirk, run the bank."

"Me, sir? I've never played…"

"Here's your cap." Kinch gleefully handed the corporal his dealer's hat. "You're used to dealing and counting."

"That's four. Here, Peter. You want the shoe?"

"Whatever." The Englishman took the token and sighed.

"LeBeau, Olsen, sit." Hogan pointed.

"Can I be the real estate guy?" Carter asked with boyish enthusiasm.

"Be my guest," Olsen grumbled. "Can I have the cannon?"

"What is the purpose of this game?" LeBeau asked.

"To bankrupt the others; buy real estate. Follow along, it's easy."

"I'll help ya." Mills sidled up to the Frenchman.

"These are dollars, not pounds," Newkirk complained.

"Well, why wouldn't they be? It's Atlantic City, not Brighton. I've been there," Olsen told LeBeau.

"It should be Paris."

"London," Newkirk countered.

"Oh, shut up and start playing," Hogan ordered.

"Put $500 in the center," Carter said, as he grabbed the top hat.

"Why? It's not in the instructions." Newkirk had to read them in order to deal out the correct amount of money.

"Carter's right. If you land on Free Parking, you get the pot. The fines and taxes go in there." Goldman pointed to the center of the board.

"We don't," Olsen argued.

"No Free Parking. If it's not in the instructions, we're not doing it. Roll the dice; see who goes first." Hogan pointed to the center of the board.

"Moi," LeBeau said dejectedly. He picked up the shoe in one hand and the dice in another. "8." After moving his token, he looked up at Mills. "Well?"

" You buy it or save your money," He whispered to LeBeau.

"Nothing, rien. Your turn." He handed the dice to Newkirk.

"7. Chance card." Carter pointed. Newkirk picked up the first card.

"Advance to St. Charles," Newkirk said in his best upper crust British accent.

"Lovely, four spaces. You want to buy it?" Carter asked.

"Sure." Newkirk handed himself 140 dollars while Carter fished out the card. "I like the color," Newkirk pointed out.

"What a mogul," Kinch deadpanned.

"Olsen, roll the dice."

"5. Reading," he said with a bit of enthusiasm. "I'm in… 200 bucks. Take a ride on the Reading…"

"Careful, it's liable to blow up," Carter joked. "My turn. 2, a double. Community Chest." He picked up the card and then read. "You have won second prize in a beauty contest. Collect $10."

The barracks broke out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah." Carter rolled again.

"Doubles again! 6. I'm putting on my top hat," he sang.

"Oh, shut up," Newkirk grumbled.

"Electric Company. I'm in."

And the game continued…

"Go to jail. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Oh, blimey…" Newkirk moved his token.

"Ha, ha."

Olsen rolled. "Chance. Advance to Illinois. Mine." He rubbed his hands together.

"Hey, he's got all three," LeBeau exclaimed.

"Watch it," Mills warned. "He'll put houses on next."

And so on…

LeBeau, now awash in money, landed on Boardwalk. "Hee, hee, hee. I'm buying."

"Oh, great," Carter rolled his eyes. "Can we stop yet, Colonel? Nothing's poppin' out here." Carter, now down on his luck, was losing his enthusiasm.

"No," Hogan insisted. "Play it out."

"Oh, boy." Carter pouted and then pointed to Newkirk. "Newkirk, you can pay your way out of jail or roll a double," Carter explained.

"I'll roll, damn it." He rolled a five.

Olsen grabbed the dice. He was closely behind LeBeau and had houses on the entire red and yellow side, while LeBeau had taken over the blue and green. "4. Community Chest." He read the card. "Get out of jail free card! Colonel, does this mean I can go home

"I'll give you $50 for it," Newkirk offered.

"No thanks."

Carter rolled and landed on Boardwalk.

"Mine," LeBeau jumped up. "$1400. Fork it over." He and Mills gave each other a high five.

"Colonel," Carter gave Hogan his best puppy dog look. "I'm bankrupt."

"They've been going at it for three hours, Colonel," Kinch pointed out.

"Okay, that's it. I give up."

"Did I win?" LeBeau asked.

* * *

(1) A red dot was placed on the Free Parking space to alert POW's that MI-5 had tampered with the game. Also, during the war, British versions used spinners instead of dice, and tokens were not made out of metal. But, I used dice for the purposes of this story. In the U.S. the metal tokens were replaced by wooden tokens.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone, front and center," Hogan ordered. "I want everything in this game looked at. Each card, all the tokens, every piece of play money. Break up into teams. Leave no stone unturned. Someone do the box. And slice that board open."

While the men set about on their tasks, Kinch asked Hogan if he should go down to the radio and ask London for help.

"Not yet," Hogan replied in an exasperated tone. "We'll look stupid."

"Good point," Kinch agreed. He went back to his post at the door, only to have his stomach do a flip-flop as he spied Schultz heading towards the barracks. "Schultz is coming," he mouthed to Hogan, who was closely reexamining the utilities cards.

"Just keep doing what you're doing. If you stop, we'll look guilty." As Schultz barreled through the door, Hogan nonchalantly took the railroad cards from Mills and began turning them around in his hand.

"Knock, Schultz?"

The sergeant was momentarily struck speechless at the sight of the chaos now evident in the barracks. "Wha… wha… is… is going on in here?" he stammered.

"Shock wave from an explosion." Hogan picked up a stack of cards. "Put these away," he said to Olsen. "Here we were, playing an innocent board game when, boom!" Hogan's arms sent everything flying. "Out of nowhere, it hit and scattered every piece of the game all over the barracks. Just trying to clean it up."

"That's right, Schultz. Boy, was it scary. Excuse me," Carter grabbed the token that had somehow ended up next to Schultz's foot.

"I heard nothing. I don't believe you, Colonel Hogan."

"Do you want to know what is really going on?" Hogan placed his arm around Schultz. "Really?"

The wheels in the sergeant's head turned for a few moments and then screeched to a halt. "No. Clean up this mess," he said as he left.

"Colonel, this is hopeless," LeBeau said as he attempted to gaze up into the inside of the thimble. Ouch!" He threw down the token and stuck a finger in his mouth.

"What did you do?" Newkirk walked over.

"Cut myself on the stupid token."

Hogan looked out at the disaster that was now the inside of his barracks and sighed.

"Let's start from the beginning. Newkirk, Carter?"

"The boxes were already open. The Krauts got to them. We found the letter in box one," Carter explained. "The stuff came from St. James' auxiliary. So we assumed it was the Monopoly game."

"Let me see the letter again," Hogan snapped his fingers. "21 items, inventory, play nice, packing list," he mumbled. "What's item 21?"

"Pontoon," both Newkirk and Carter answered.

"Huh? In American, Newkirk."

"Blackjack."

A short silence, then…

"Blackjack?" Hogan whispered. He opened the door and started to run towards the rec hall, thought that would look suspicious, and instead began to walk at a very fast pace with all 14 men following behind.

Hogan stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. "One of you go back and watch the door."

"That'll be me," Goldman sighed and headed back to the barracks.

"What did you do with the deck of pontoon cards?" Hogan asked Newkirk and Carter before he opened the door to the rec hall. They all rushed into the building, almost ending up in a pile in their haste to find the playing cards.

"Um," Carter scratched his head. He looked at Newkirk for help.

"Carter!" Hogan groaned.

"Shelf. I tossed it on a shelf."

The rec hall had been tidied up by Barracks 4. All the games had been neatly placed on the shelves and organized by size. Unfortunately, there were approximately 100 packs of cards stacked in empty Red Cross ration boxes. Yup. Stalag 13 had one thing going for it. An overabundance of cards.

"Here they are!" Olsen yelled. He started tossing decks out to everyone. "Hey, guys, you remember what the box looked like?"

"Not a clue," Newkirk replied. "Andrew?"

Carter, who was perched on the edge of the ping pong table, shrugged. "I think it was blue or red. I don't remember."

While the now fed-up POWs were opening every pack of cards, Hogan paced back and forth. "It's got to be the cards," he grumbled.

"You just had to speak British, Newkirk," Garth, who took charge of returning the cards to the shelf, complained.

"Hey, it was from a British spy organization," Newkirk retorted.

"Should have put 2 and 2 together. Look at the time we wasted." Kinch glared at Carter.

"Hey, anyone could have made the same mistake," Carter replied as he tried to hide next to a half-put together jigsaw puzzle. "Hey, I found the last corner!"

"Can the chatter." Hogan stopped his pacing for a moment. "And keep looking."

"I think I found it!" Mills yelled triumphantly a few minutes later. It was indeed a red box with the word "Pontoon" marked clearly on the cover.

"Toss it here." Hogan caught it and gingerly opened the top and pulled out the deck. There was nothing obvious. "Blackjack. Twenty-one," he said out loud. "The 21st card?" Hogan slowly counted up to twenty-one. "8 of diamonds. Aha!" He held up the card. Attached on the back was a thin sheet of paper. "There it is! Whatever it is. Kinch, put what's on here into code and transmit it to Snow White."


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah, it's a beautiful day, Colonel Hogan. Enjoying the sun?"

"Yes, I am, Schultz." Hogan, who was seated on the bench outside the barracks, was watching a volleyball game between his men and Barracks 5. That is, when he wasn't dozing off. If it wasn't for the fact that there was a war on, and he was in a prison camp, you could almost say it was a Kodak moment.

"Where are Carter and Newkirk?" Schultz asked. "They usually play."

An errant ball headed Hogan's way. He picked it up and threw it back.

"Inside, Schultz. There was something those two needed to take care of…"

"What a mess." Newkirk stood by the door and stared at the interior of their barracks.

"Looks like a tornado hit downtown Atlantic City ," Carter joked.

"Not funny, Andrew. We have to clean it."

"You're right. Sorry," Carter frowned. "I don't even know where to start."

Scraps of paper were everywhere. The top bunks resembled Times Square after a ticker tape parade, as somehow the multi-colored play money had been torn into bits, thrown into the air in frustration and floated down, sticking mercilessly onto the not so soft thin woolen blankets.

"Work on the bunks," Newkirk, who was holding a broom, suggested. "I'll start on the floor. Oy."

Chance, Community Chest and real estate cards lay scattered all over the room. Newkirk began sweeping up the mess while Carter, who was climbing from one top bunk to another, worked on the tiny scraps of currency. He looked up. "Hey, how did that get there? Marvin Gardens is stuck to the ceiling!"

"You're jokin'!"

"Nope. See the yellow," Carter pointed. The rectangular piece of cardboard was clearly visible. "And I already found pieces of Baltic and Atlantic ."

"Ow!" Newkirk shouted. He shook his hand. "Caught the flat iron." He tossed it into the wastebasket. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.

Carter hopped down and began to clean the table. "KP in boot camp was worse," he retorted.

"I got back late from leave one night," Newkirk recalled as he picked up what looked to be a corner of the jail, "And I had to scrub the loo with a toothbrush."

"Loo who?" Carter asked.

"The loo! Toilet." Newkirk shook his head.

"Ah, you see, there you go. This is all your fault. You and your… your… Britishisms. That's what got us into this mess in the first place. Pontoon. Harrumph."

"Yeah, well, you got us going on the Monopoly bandwagon!" Something on the floor caught Newkirk's eye, and he reached down and picked it up. "Oh, St. James; your fault!" He held up the offending card.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that if the clues all lead to 21, Newkirk, that you label the blackjack game 21, not a type of bridge."

"Well, look at the linguistics expert from America; where they call the true football, soccer, and where, in football, they barely touch the ball with their feet."

"Oh, well…" Carter stabbed at an orange piece of paper - part of a 500 dollar note. "Well…ah, whoever heard of calling a trunk where you store stuff, a boot? And a biscuit is something you give a dog. Really…" he chortled.

Newkirk remained silent.

"See, you agree with me." Triumphant, Carter folded his arms and dared the Englishman to offer a retort.

"Hey, don't mess with our sacred institution, mate. It's tea and biscuits. It's the King's English. You people twisted it."

And with that, the two reached an impasse. Carter and Newkirk stopped their work and glared at each other.

"Oops," Carter whispered softly.

"'E's right behind me, isn't 'e?"

Carter nodded.

Newkirk turned around and gave Hogan a cheerful smile. "We're just about done, sir, see? Spit-spot. Right as rain."

"Uh, huh. Your argument interrupted my nap. In the sunshine. With a redhead. On the beach, with, well never mind." Hogan glanced at the barracks, which looked a lot better than it had an hour ago.

"Okay, you two have suffered enough."

"By the way, sir. You never told us what was in the message for Snow White," Carter said.

"Oh, that? Well, you're not going to believe this but…" Hogan grinned.

"Try us," Newkirk replied.

"It was a recipe for egg salad." (1)

* * *

(1) For those of you who don't understand the reference, look up "What's up Tiger Lily." A film by Woody Allen.; And yes, I couldn't figure out a good way to end this. LOL


End file.
